


The Trouble with Truffles

by Vain



Category: Kyou Kara Maou!
Genre: Crack, Fluff, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-12
Updated: 2006-12-12
Packaged: 2017-11-11 20:00:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/482357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vain/pseuds/Vain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yozak <i>told</i> him not to eat those damn sweets . . .</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Trouble with Truffles

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Swgmigraines](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Swgmigraines).



> **_  
> The Trouble With Truffles_**  
>  By: Vain  
> 12.12.2006
> 
> **o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**
> 
> **Disclaimer:** I don't own _Kyou Kara Maou_ or any of the characters therein—they are the property of Tomo Takabayashi. This is a work of fandom; I am not profiting from this. 
> 
> **Summary:** Yozak _told_ him not to eat those damn sweets . . .
> 
>  **Pairings:** YozakxConrad 
> 
> **RATED:** NC-17- _ish . . ._
> 
>  ** _Warnings:_** Yaoi lemon-ness!
> 
>  **Notes:** . . . Well, I’ll be damned. There is actually no angst in this fic. This is dedicated to my **She** (Shewgmigraines), who has been having a rough patch.  
>  I may have been a bit comma-happy.
> 
>  ** _Special Thanks:_** to **Haunt** for the beta! Any remaining errors are my own.
> 
>  **Translations:**  
>  _Taichou_ \- Captain, military  
>  _Hahaue_ \- Mother (honorific form reserved for people of high status)  
>  _Chushou-Aniiue_ \- literally, Little-Big Brother (honorific form reserved for people of high status)
> 
>  
> 
> **Please review.**

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

_“Twill make Old Women Young and Fresh;  
Create New Motions of the Flesh.  
And cause them long for you know what,  
If they but taste of chocolate.” _

\- James Wadworth  
"A History of the Nature and Quality of Chocolate”

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

_C_ onrad Weller had been a rather peculiar child, and he grew up to be a rather peculiar man. Thankfully, he became a good deal better at hiding it as he grew older. If anything, he became _too_ good at hiding it, and his veneer of seemingly unruffle-able perfection set his opponents within the Court on edge. Unfortunately, when near those who closest to him, the peculiarity still leaked out around the edges. This usually took its unhappy manifestation in his sense of humor, which ranged wildly from flat and corny to emotionally hazardous, and his weirdly perpetual smile that occasionally seemed quite fixed on his face while his eyes told another story entirely. But however obnoxious (or disturbing) his peculiarities, Conrad himself was generally quite charming and occasionally (when he wasn't _trying_ to be funny) quite amusing.

One of his most entertaining quirks was his sweet tooth. It was perhaps one the castle's worst-kept secrets, due in no small part to Conrad himself. It was rather difficult to hide when the brunet went doe-eyed at the sight of cinnamon rolls and became practically perky at the mention of chocolate. Conrad's love of sweets was practically a weakness, to the point where he actually tried to avoid eating pumpkin rolls in public for a month after Yozak smirked knowingly and described his expression as one of "orgasmic bliss."

Making a face like that in front of certain people was _not_ something he wished to do.

The maids, however, took delight in pampering and indulging the normally reserved half-demon's cravings, and had somehow gotten in the habit of leaving little treats for him on tables in the hallway outside his room. The three head maids seemed to have decided that Conrad was something of a stray animal in this fashion and—while the practice annoyed Yozak to no end—Conrad thought it was _fabulous_. Conrad’s rooms were in a rather isolated wing of the castle, so relatively few people knew of the weird little ritual. Yozak hadn’t even known about it until he moved into Conrad’s suite and actually _saw_ the brunet make a slight detour one night and begin eating a seemingly random piece of sponge cake drizzled with strawberry syrup. 

“Someone is going to poison you like that one day,” the spy said sourly after his lover paused long enough between bites to explain everything to him.

Conrad had very maturely chosen to stick his tongue out in response—it wasn’t like anyone other than Yozak was there to see him.

The larger man scowled and tried to take the plate from the happily munching prince and narrowly missed getting stabbed with a fork.

“If someone hostile makes it this deep into the palace and manages to stick around long enough to bake me cupcakes, then I’ll have far more to worry about than sweets,” Conrad explained in an irritatingly serene manner. There was a look of post-coital happiness on his face as he daintily licked the crumbs off his fingers.

Vexation somewhat mitigated by the sight of the brunet’s pink tongue flicking over those wicked fingers, Yozak merely grunted. He did, however, make it a point to secretly dispose of any sweets he managed to find in the wing after that. The Maou wasn’t the only one with enemies and there was no shortage of people who would be pleased to see the nation’s second-highest ranking half breed keel over one day with a half-eaten danish in his hand. 

Of all of Conrad’s stupidly risky behavior, sex and sweets had to rank among the highest and were probably the two that frustrated Yozak the most. And while the sex thing could frequently be interesting, the redhead _really_ did not need to be lured out into the snow at three in the morning simply because Conrad found the cold “invigorating.”

There were times when Yozak seriously had to question the other man’s sanity.

Still, Conrad remained un-poisoned as of yet (and Yozak remained blessedly unfrostbitten) and eventually the odd behavior became just another of Conrad’s quirks. Conrad—who had been eating the left out sweets for decades—had never seen anything wrong with it in the first place and soon forgot Yozak’s concerns beneath the everyday chaos of their growing relationship and palace life.

Which was probably why he thought absolutely nothing of the matter when he came across a box of truffles on the table near the door to his sitting room one afternoon. In truth, the brunet _almost_ missed them. A flu had hit the ranks hard and the infirmary was overflowing. Short-staffed and frazzled, the castle guard was working double shifts to keep up their operations, and it didn’t help that Cheri had decided to throw a Winter Ball in three weeks for Yuuri and Wolfram’s anniversary. The result was that the whole castle was whipped up into a bizarre frenzy of invalids and party preparations and Conrad had not slept in nearly seventy-four hours. Yozak had been away on a mission for the past month, too and was already three days overdue, adding to the brunet’s tension.

A field medic and friend of Yozak’s had actually taken it upon himself to (privately) order Conrad to bed after the captain nearly snapped a Private’s head off in a very rare fit of temper. While Warner may have been almost three times bigger than Conrad, the very cranky Ruttenberg Lion had been markedly unimpressed . . . until the medic threatened to have someone fetch Gisela. _No one_ got on the bad side of the Palace Healer’s temper and Conrad valued his life (though the brunet made a mental note to have a “talk” with Yozak about having people watch over him while the redhead was away). He could not really begrudge the medic’s insistence anyway. He was so tired he dropped his keys twice while trying to unlock the door. 

It was when he picked them up for the second time that he saw the innocuous-looking box on the table. Simple curiosity led him to examine it. The lid came off with a quiet rush of chocolate-scented air and his eyes grew wide, instantly alert at the first whiff of that coveted scent. A frighteningly dreamy look of anticipation stole over his features and he happily collected his newly-found box of treasures, fought with the lock for another moment, and then triumphantly managed to stagger into the suite, kicking the door closed behind him and sliding the bolt again.

His keys were deposited on the table in the sitting room and he began shedding clothes as soon as he entered the bedroom, somehow keeping the chocolates in hand while stripping. A naked and rather sleepy-looking Conrad was curled happily in the center of the bed in under four minutes and then he removed the lid again, inhaling deeply as the scent of chocolate arose once more.

The first bite was _bliss_. Velvety, chocolaty, raspberry-filled _bliss_ and an alarmingly sexual sound of contentment slipped free of his lips as he savored the complex and delicate blend of flavors. It was unlike _any_ truffle he had before; it almost tasted _warm_ , though there was not a hint of alcohol in them, and he could not restrain a little wiggle of gustatory glee.

“I have to figure out where Lazania got these . . .” _And maybe talk to Yuuri about raising the maids’ pay . . ._

The next truffle was a similar, vanilla delight. Smooth ripples of fudge, a sensual slide of hazelnut, and an untenably _delightful_ flush of coconut followed soon after. Halfway through the box, Conrad was half asleep, completely satiated, and entirely too warm. A strawberry truffle was suitably delicious to soothe his annoyance at having to get out of bed and open a window and a mint one eased him back to his half drowsy state. Three quarters of the way through the box, a dreamless sleep stole over the exhausted half-Mazoku, and he loosely held the box in one hand, completely unaware that his other hand had drifted down to protectively cradle his half-hard arousal.

  
**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**   


He awoke to heat and the soft crinkle of paper as something was taken away. His eyes were reluctant to open, but a familiar, gentle brush of lips against his cheek forced him to collect his muddled thoughts and put forth the effort to blink until his vision cleared.

“Yozak . . .?”

Tired blue eyes, tinged with worry, looked down at him. “Hey, Tai~chou~ . . . How are you doing? You look a bit flushed.”

“Y’re late,” the brunet slurred, still trying to clear the fuzzy edges from around his vision. A hand came up and somewhere, some part of Conrad had the presence of mind to internally pout and wonder why the hell his chocolate was gone, but then his arm managed to wrap itself around Yozak’s neck and that was quite nice, too, so Conrad focused on that for a moment instead.

Yozak smelled of dust and sweat and leather and old whiskey and Conrad inhaled it all deeply and then wrinkled his nose. For a moment he was going to protest the scent, but he somehow found himself licking and sucking lightly on the very nice stretch of Yozak’s stubbly neck and forgot everything else.

The other man, however, seemed to take issue with this, and pushed him away with a slight laugh. “Not right now; I haven’t bathed—”

“Don’t care,” Conrad muttered with a slur that not even he could recognize. He shifted over with a motion that was almost a slither and pressed his hands against the man’s chest, suddenly trying to push him down on his back.

Luck was on his side, even if balance and coordination were not, and Yozak was taken off guard by his lover’s strange behavior. The move knocked them both to the floor and Yozak choked on the protest in his throat when he found himself with a lapful of naked, overheated, painfully aroused Weller. He instinctively gripped the brunet’s biceps as the smaller man seemed to be attempting to _climb_ him and rut against him at the same time and hissed at the heat the other man was putting off.

“Taich— _Conrad!_ You’re burning up!”

Conrad ignored him in favor of undoing Yozak’s pants in an impressive display of one-handed dexterity. Yozak thumped his head on the floor and groaned, trying to reign in his own desire as his seemingly possessed lover immediately set about proving just how dexterous that hand really was.

A month was a long, long time, after all . . .

The fevered, half-crazed look in Conrad’s eyes was enough to put the brakes on, though. Never had he seen the brunet look like _that_ , and it wasn’t until he’d grabbed Conrad’s biceps hard and forcibly arrested his attention that that glassy gaze really seemed to focus on him. Panting at the heroic effort it had taken to put a tenuous leash on his own desires, Yozak tried to keep hold of the other man and somehow get out from under him. He was only marginally successful, and when Conrad actually began to thrust against his thigh, the redhead had to be content with only managing to sit up.

Conrad was straddling his left thigh, arms held to his sides at arms length, as he breathed heavily, body almost visibly humming with need. Yozak had to give him a rough shake when he felt a hand brush his own arousal.

“Conrad!”

The normally-composed captain whined desperately in his throat and contented himself with a slow thrust against Yozak’s leg, fingers twitching with his desire to touch the other man. “Nnnng! Yozak~. . .” Heavily draped brown eyes stared coyly into worried blue and the brunet’s voice dropped to a hungry murmur. “ _. . . Fuck me. Now. Hard._ ”

Those blue eyes widened slightly at the forward command and Yozak had to grit his teeth as his own body throbbed in response. “ _No . . ._ You’re . . . Something’s not right!”

He growled and tightened his grip on the other man’s arms to a painful extent as Conrad slowly rolled his very prominent arousal against him again.

“ _Yozak . . ._ ”

Another brush against his erection. 

Yozak didn’t know whether to smack the man, grant his request, or do both. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

The moan that left Conrad’s lips was nothing even remotely resembling a reply and Yozak knew better than to expect one by now. His eyes darted around the room almost frantically, trying to ignore the writhing, moaning creature that resembled his lover only in body, desperate to find what had happened. As much as he knew he couldn’t trust himself to focus on the other man, he also didn’t dare leave him to his own devices right now either. Warner definitely had not mentioned _this_ when he’d seen the man on his way up . . .

His eyes suddenly lit on the box of mostly eaten chocolates on the nightstand and in one instant, having sex with Conrad suddenly seemed _much_ less important than _**strangling Conrad within an inch of his miserable life**_.

He jerked the smaller man forward, furious. “I _told_ you not to eat those damn sweets!!”

The rest of the tirade was lost when Conrad’s tongue slipped into his mouth and Yozak nearly choked. His grip lessened and the other man took the opportunity to cling to the redhead like wet silk, desperate and hungry in his affections. 

It took a moment for Yozak to marshal his forces and bring his libido back under control and he had to grab Conrad by the back of the neck to partially peel him off, his cheek flushed with both fury and arousal. “ _What the hell?!_ ”

One look at the brunet quelled his anger. The look on Conrad’ face was _pained_ , light streaks of sweat matting his bangs.

Yozak exhaled heavily and Conrad whined, genuine pain in his expression.

“It hurts . . .”

“. . . Oh hell, Conrad . . .”

For a moment the two men looked at one another, Conrad looking more ashamed than Yozak had ever seen him, and Yozak feeling about two inches tall for not having previously seen the true cause of the brunet’s sudden frenzy. He leaned in and lightly kissed Conrad’s lips. “Stand up, Taichou.”

Legs shaking, Conrad obeyed. He felt lightheaded and disoriented, and it was hard to focus on anything but the pain spreading through him from his arousal. He watched with unnaturally dilated eyes as his lover stood before him and tiredly began to strip off his clothes. 

“You’ll have to deal with a bit of dust tonight on your clean sheets, Taichou.”

Neither the fact that it was already night, nor the state of the bedsheets made any impact on him when he saw Yozak. His mind idly noted three new scars at his lover’s hip, but mostly he feasted his eyes on the redhead’s form in and of itself. 

_Still beautiful._

He was so transfixed that he barely noticed when warm arms suddenly enveloped him and drew him down towards the chocolate scented comfort of their bed. His groan blended in with Yozak’s when their bodies came in full contact with one another.

Conrad’s body hummed and throbbed, his every sense expanded by the drugged chocolate, and every touch seemed to add to the haze that covered his mind. There was no time for introspection or analysis. Fire dripped onto his body in an uneven rain. The broad sweep of Yozak’s palm on his stomach was a red paint stroke that blotted out reason. The smooth glide of the shoulders beneath his fingertips and the crisp, tight curls between his lover’s legs were waves and crackles of hot electricity that stole his breath. Small swirls of color moved inside him and danced behind his eyelids. The unyielding, molten-hot clutch around his desire was a brand, and when he spoke, there were no words, merely need, the scent of chocolate, and distant, pleasant white noise.

He was so lost that he had completely forgotten himself until Yozak entered him. Hips lifted high, it was hard to breathe, but he still found the strength to cry out. The white noise became Yozak’s voice and the drops of fire were kisses and the voice that he had thought was silent was suddenly clear and his own.

“Yozak, Yozak . . .!”

“Conrad . . . Gods, you look so beautiful . . .”

He couldn’t find their tempo amidst the frantic heat and motion, but Yozak carried it for them both, one hand roughly pumping Conrad’s erection in time to his own quickening thrusts. Beneath him, Conrad was alive in a way that he had never seen, the very last of his inhibition left on the floor with the clothes, or lost in the bottom of that box of chocolates. He groaned, whined, and thrashed, twisting like a bit of paper giving way to a flame, and the sound that the performance evoked in Yozak was something neither man could identify.

“Tai— _Conrad!_ ”

One breath. Two.

Yozak shuddered and felt his consciousness fragment and crumble in a wave of heat. He was only vaguely aware of Conrad’s answering cry beneath him as he came.

It was instinct and practice that made him catch himself more than anything else. He had learned a long time ago that fast withdrawals and being crushed under 200 plus pounds of redheaded, post-coital soldier irritated his bedmate, and nothing ruined the afterglow like a bitchy Conrad. He slid himself slowly out of his lover, fatigued body loudly protesting its previous enthusiasm.

“Conrad . . .?” Yozak peered down through sweaty bangs at his partner, but there was no response.

Conrad was asleep. A trembling hand took the brunet’s pulse and worried eyes surveyed the body he knew so well. It was all normal. If not for the fact that he was sweaty and aching, he’d hardly have known that the innocently slumbering man below him had been an insatiable incubus not ten minutes beforehand. 

The spy groaned and shimmied off the bed, shivering in the cold. He wrinkled his nose at the mess they’d left on the bed, but Conrad needed the rest more than he needed clean sheets. “Besides,” he muttered, massaging a sore shoulder as he smirked down at the sleeping form of his fastidiously clean lover, “maybe now you’ll listen to me about those sweets.”

His legs were weak with weariness, but he managed to cover the other man up and close the window before staggering off for a much needed bath. He’d wake Conrad when he was done to change the sheets. And then he would talk to the maids about their little game . . .

. . . And maybe find out where he could buy more of those candies.

He resolved to find the entire supply and burn them when, twenty minutes later, an irresistibly ruffled looking Conrad slipped into the bath behind him. He’d forgotten how . . . demanding Conrad could be when he was on top.

Warner visited them a bit later on in the evening and managed to examine Conrad without getting molested and ensure that they would both have the next few days off. He even managed to give Yozak something for the limp the redhead was sporting.

  


**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**  


Wolfram was in an outright tizzy. He could not remember where he’d left the anniversary chocolates he’d gotten Yuuri and they were . . .

. . . delicate.

Not to mention expensive.

The blond Consort scowled at the carpet as he walked. It had been three days since he’d lost them. First he’d been in the gardens, then he’d visited Hahaue, then he’d visited Greta (the thought of their precious, innocent daughter finding them had horrified the Mazoku, but she’d sworn that she didn’t know what he was talking about), then he’d been in the kitchens . . . And he had gone up to Weller’s room . . . Just for a moment, mind you . . . Not that it was any of his _business_ that the man had been the pallor of death the last time he’d seen him . . . Not that he’d even _**seen**_ much of Weller ever since that . . . _Gurrier_ had moved in with him . . .

And what were they thinking anyway? _Flaunting_ their relationship like that?

Besides, if Weller wanted to see him, he knew how to find him.

It wasn’t as if he _cared_ that Conrad . . . _Weller_ spent _every waking moment_ either working, or with Yuuri, or with that . . . _Gurrier_ and never seemed to want to talk to him anymore, or locked himself up with that . . . _Gurrier_ the _minute_ the man got back, never mind that he’d _promised_ Wolfram he’d spar with him later . . . .

. . . Not that he cared.

Weller cheated like hell when he fought, anyway.

Wolfram released an explosive sigh and pushed his hair out of his eyes, steeling himself to knock on the door. 

“It’s none of my business what those two _halfbreeds_ do together . . .” But the insult sounded weak and petulant even to his own ears.

The blond drew himself up as tall as he could and knocked, making sure to look up right where he knew Weller’s eyes would be. He hated that both his brothers were and always would be taller than him. 

. . . Though, Yuuri really seemed to think it was cute . . .

He blushed and suddenly wished he hadn’t. Shinou’s blood, what was Weller going to think of him, standing out here in the hall, puffed up and blushing like a child . . .

The door opened and Wolfram stiffened, willing his voice to be steady as he looked right at . . .

. . . a hickey-marked throat.

The Consort blanched and looked up into the laughing blue eyes of the man his brother had taken as his lover. . . . . The very _half naked_ and _bedraggled_ and clearly . . . _sexed up_ man his brother had taken as his lover. 

His wide, distinctive eyes widened even further. “Um . . .”

Gurrier looked down at the younger man and grinned wolfishly. “My Lord Consort?”

“Um . . .” Wolfram blinked again, his mind still fixed on things it really did not wish to consider and he stared up . . . _Up . . ._

_. . . The bastard’s even taller than Chushou-Aniiue._

The thought made him scowl. “Gurrier. Have you or Weller seen a box of chocolate truffles . . .?”

Those cold blue eyes narrowed sharply and Wolfram’s voice died in his throat.

“Chocolate truffles?” the large man murmured, looking down at him very hard.

It suddenly occurred to Wolfram just how much _bigger_ than him Gurrier really was. He nervously wondered if fire would stop the other man if he got suitably angry.

“Yes.” The blond was absurdly grateful that his voice sounded much stronger than he felt. It wasn’t as though Gurrier would _hurt_ him, after all . . .

_. . . Chushou-Aniiue would kick his half-breed ass._

He tried to pretend that the thought was confident and not smug. 

. . . Not that he _needed_ Weller’s protection. 

He scowled even harder and could feel his temper flicker like a flame in his mind.

Then Gurrier smiled, looking alarmingly . . . _chipper_. “Oh, yeah. We found them.” His expression suddenly shifted to thoughtful as though made of quicksilver. “Taichou . . .” Now he looked abashed.

 _No wonder he’s a spy,_ the smaller demon thought, a bit confused by all the sudden changes in the other man’s facial expressions.

“Well, Taichou ate them all,” Gurrier announced, looking both cheerful and embarrassed.

Whatever color was left in Wolfram’s face drained completely. “. . . All of them?” 

“All at once!” the redhead replied, looking almost deranged in his cheerfulness. “I’m lucky I got back when I did . . .”

. . . Everyone knew Weller had a sweet tooth . . . Wolfram had been leaving sweets in the hall for him and asking the maids to take the credit for it for years . . . But if Weller had eaten all of those . . . .

The Royal Consort suddenly wished he could sink into the ground in embarrassment.

“Is he okay?” he blurted out, unable to stop himself. “Those are only supposed to be eaten one a day, not all at once . . .” He stopped, knowing that he must look as small as he felt and heard a trembling voice that did not sound like his own: "Is he okay . . .?”

For a minute it looked as though Gurrier was going to say something, but then he paused and his sharp features seemed to soften into something gentle. For a flicker of a moment, Wolfram could see what his brother saw in this man.

“He’s fine,” Gurrier replied in a surprisingly soft voice. “I, though . . . am a bit sore.” 

Then the man leered and winked and Wolfram felt himself blush.

He unconsciously stood up a bit straighter, ready to snap at the soldier for being so forward when Gurrier suddenly bent slightly and whispered: “But maybe it’s time you stopped leaving your brother anonymous presents in the hallway, neh, von Bielefeld-kyo? ”

Gurrier winked again, though this one looked a lot less perverted, and promptly stepped back and shut the door in his face. 

For a moment Wolfram stared, unable to formulate a reply. Then he bit his lower lip and hurried back down the hall the way he’d come. 

Gurrier was right. From now on he was going to have to label Weller’s sweets. 

Otherwise . . .

He shuddered as he heard what might have been a muffled moan and walked faster. 

“ . . . Now what the hell am I supposed to get Yuuri in time for the Ball . . .?”

  


**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**  


  


_~ Fin_  


  


**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**  



End file.
